


With Guts

by TeaAndATale



Series: Tale of Two Carters [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Peggy being a badass, Steggy - Freeform, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndATale/pseuds/TeaAndATale
Summary: There's a reason Peggy joined the SSR. Or, how Steve Rogers learns the full extent of Peggy's abilities.A prequel-ish companion piece to "Under Suspicion"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my one year fic-anniversary. I can’t believe it’s been a year, and that somehow the stories have kept coming. I had never really shared my writing before and it took me ages to get the courage to start posting the fics I had for Steggy, so thank you for your support and interest if you’ve read, left kudos or comments. Seriously, you’re all a sweet bunch. It’s been so fun sharing and talking Steggy with you all the past year.  
> So in celebration, here’s a long overdue companion piece I’ve had in mind for “Under Suspicion” for quite a while. It’s set prior to the events of Under Suspicion, though if you want to read this one first, or haven’t read it, all you really need to know is that it’s an AU take on Peggy’s involvement in the war and how she joined the SSR. Also known as the story of how Steve finds out the full extent of Peggy’s badassery.

“You don't win wars with niceness, Doctor. You win wars, with guts.”  
\- Colonel Chester Phillips

 

Phillips had been in London for less than a day when a bit of stray intelligence, gossip really, catches the interest of his superiors. He’d been tasked, on behalf of the General’s orders, to strike up some goodwill with British intelligence in order to start building up a joint task force with the United States. It’s a daunting task to be sure, given that the war’s been raging for over a year and the official American policy remains at neutrality. He can tell it’s only a matter of time, frankly the way things were going jumping in sooner seemed like the best course of action to shorten the potential length of the war. But it’s not his call. In the meantime, he’s more than happy to be looking at setting up a joint force with the sole purpose of taking down Hitler’s deep science division. Men who think themselves godlike have always been a cause for concern in his book. A target to take down a couple of pegs before their fire-fueled ego spread.

In fact, it’s the whispers of a blow to that specific division that brought Phillips to have drinks with a few of his contacts high up in the British military. The rumblings of a takedown and rescue of some secret Nazi asset caught plenty of Allied attention, though most were unclear on actual details. Phillips managed to get a few. British intelligence kept a tight lid on how their POWs, most presumed deceased for almost a year, had managed to break out of what was rumored to be a HYDRA facility, and burn the facility to the ground.

Phillips, with the limited information he received, had a strong sense that the POWs were supplied some help, and that it may not have been official. No, not when no one wanted to test Hitler’s reach, not yet. Not when the United States was still not officially supporting the Allied effort. It didn’t surprise him that the records of the incident barely existed. Phillips was well aware of the many covert teams in place, spies and special ghost units. And with the Brits on board with a novel approach to crippling the Nazi deep science division, he was getting closer and closer to the truth.

His contacts wrangle him a meeting with someone in military intelligence. Apparently they are also desperate to start a new force dedicated to crippling an arm of the Nazi’s forces. By luck he was actually going to have something substantial to offer his superiors.

“We may employ certain… deniable assets,” the new contact, a tall man in a expertly tailored suit and slicked back hair, told him. “A modern usage of a particular type of citizen.”

“And these assets, they were able to accomplish this from the shadows,” Phillips guessed.

“Not quite they… Just one asset.”

Phillips couldn’t deny his surprise at this admission. One operative. That was not only tactically insane, but completely unbelievable. There was no way the British military sanctioned a rescue mission employing one operative alone. He therefore came to the conclusion that the mission was unauthorized. One agent’s desperate vendetta. A personal crusade, most likely.

As unlikely as this all was, a foolish and stupid move, it was undeniably effective. There was even minimal blowback to the Commonwealth. Military sons returned home to their families. It was a rallying call. An event that bolstered morale. And as Hitler was still denying his division’s existence, the crippling attack didn’t cause the retaliation expected. Phillips was impressed. And as far as he could gleam from the situation, whoever took on that reckless mission, survived.

“And this operative, they made it out alive?”

He had to make sure of course. Simple curiosity. Vital interest.

“Oh yes. Hardly scuffed at all.”

Phillips drained the rest of his whiskey in one neat gulp.

“I need you to set up a meeting. I’d like to get to know this daring asset.”

“Might be difficult to arrange. Like I had alluded, these operatives’ merits lie upon their secrecy.”

“Then arrange a meeting with their superior. American Intelligence has a proposition that will be mutually beneficial, and given the current climate of neutrality, secrecy is obviously the upmost of priorities. And now we have a prime candidate for the operation.”

He can’t say he was surprised when he did get a meeting with the head of British Intelligence. He knew full well they wouldn’t be able to resist, nor could they afford to disregard more creative efforts to win the war. First, they have a long political meeting about all the particulars of the growing HYDRA threat. Phillips put the American proposition on the table. The United States, due in part to their long economic relationship with Germany, had had their own leads into HYDRA assets. They know all about the unnaturalness of one Johann Schmidt. And they have a long term goal of neutralizing that threat. It would start with a rescue mission: the extraction of a lead scientist held hostage, Doctor Abraham Erskine.

“Before I allow you access to our operative,” the head of British intelligence started, “I’d like to forewarn you against your expectations. You Americans have not been in this fight and may not respect or understand some of our decisions regarding personnel.”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Phillips admitted, “but when it comes to assets with guts, I keep an open mind.”

The man took a long look at Phillips before responding.

“I think we can come to some agreement. Oh-eight-hundred tomorrow Colonel. Agent Carter will be waiting for you.”

The next morning, Colonel Phillips was escorted down many floors, through mazes of hallways. Finally, he’s led into one the cavernous strategy rooms.

Inside, among the chestnut tables, chairs and bookcases linings three of the four walls, stood a woman. A young woman. Instead of resting politely in one of the many plush upholstered chairs, she stood looking at the various maps pinned around the room. She was studying them, he ventured. She was dressed sharply, though not in any military gear. Phillips had his suspicions, but what surprised him the most was the penetrating look in her eyes when they met his from across the room. She was so young and yet it was clear she had seen enough of the war to be beyond her years.

“You must be Agent Carter,” Phillips said as she continued to eye him warily. “Colonel Chester Phillips, United States Army,” he introduced himself when she didn’t reply.

The brown-haired woman marched right up to him. “Agent Margaret Carter,” she said sticking her hand out. “I’m afraid that’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

Phillips fought the sudden amusement that bubbled up as he shook her hand. He gestured to two chairs across from each other.

“I’ve heard you’ve had a personal encounter with a special division of Hitler’s regime. A dangerous one.”

Agent Carter didn’t respond. In fact, she hardly reacted. She’s good. No wonder she’s still on the payroll after her rogue mission.

“Relax, Agent. This meeting has been set with the blessing of your superiors. Although I admire your loyalty. In fact, you’ve caught my attention.”

“Is this a recruitment?” she asked.

“Let’s call it an evaluation.”

“An evaluation? I don’t work for you,” she retorted.

“No. But you could.”

Agent Carter looked on in interest and Phillips took his opening.

“From my understanding, you single-handedly managed to bring back sixty of your countrymen, all presumed to be dead. You, Agent Carter, walked straight into the mouth of hell and came out with a victory that months of tactical planning could not have guaranteed.”

Phillips paused. Her reaction to his assessment was just as vital here. He’d been disappointed before. She didn’t say anything. There was no proud smirk on her face, and not a hint of bashfulness.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself Agent?”

“What is it you want me to say? I saw an opening, a chance, and I took it,” she replied in an even tone.

He’s interested. Intrigued. There is no glorification of her actions. And yet it seems she is due some. She is more than due the credit and honor. And he’s still not clear about how she did what she did. But more importantly the why. Why would a young woman be so intentionally reckless in the face of certain failure? He’s curious but also certain about his next decision.

“Agent Carter, I am representing a joint Allied, United States backed taskforce with the sole purpose of destroying Johann Schmidt. He is the head of HYDRA. I believe you are familiar with that name.”

Her gaze alone, flashes of something dark in her eyes, told him she was.

“We have an operation in motion that will change the course of this war, and has the potential to neutralize all future threats. And the first step involves a covert mission. I intend to drop an operative straight into HYDRA headquarters. I want you for this mission.”

He watched as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. He’d seen hundreds of operatives that didn’t have an ounce of the control she radiates.

“I think you could be perfect for this position. You would be assuring a major breakthrough for the Allied efforts.”

He knew he’s hooked her.

“What must I do?” she asked, no sign of wavering.

Phillips waved his hand. “We can get to the details at a later time. First, I want one thing in return.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want you to tell me the whole story, beginning to end, every detail.”

Agent Carter stared at him for a long moment and then she began to speak.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Peggy had come a long way from the SOE Agent who had undergone an insane mission to save her brother. She hadn’t expected a Colonel, an American one at that, to come in and present her with opportunities she’d only dreamed about for years. After her successful extraction of a Dr. Abraham Erskine, Phillips had solidified his choice, somehow managing to keep her on board though she knew he’d had blowback on account of his special asset being a woman. He invited her to join the SSR and luckily, her SOE handlers appeared to see the potential of the alliance, particularly as plans for a London-based headquarters was already under way.

Over the course of two years, her mission parameters changed immensely. Instead of just occasionally dropping coded messages into France, she was given real missions including an extended stint in New York, not only keeping an eye on Dr. Erskine but also an operation that gave her a very thorough and intimate knowledge of the tunnels crisscrossing below the city. Coming to America for the first time had been a thrill. An excitement she wouldn’t have thought she’d have just a few years earlier. She considers that if she were given that chance in her previous life, it would undoubtedly have been on a honeymoon holiday at best. Touristy, short, and proper. She would have hated it.

Once her assignment was complete she’d gone back to England not long after the renewed Nazi bombing raids on English cities. She grit her teeth, and held her chin high. But she did file away the thought of perhaps one day, returning to truly experience New York. Perhaps after the war. If it ever ended.

The Colonel had never had a problem with Peggy completing tasks. Agent Carter, though still constantly bewildering men who were meant to be colleagues, never failed to deliver. She thrived, even in wholly unglamorous assignments. She had never complained like the other agents he’d been given, constantly bellyaching over not having any leads, or whining that it wasn’t even their war to begin with either. If he asked for a report by noon, it was on his desk in full before he had to ask twice, and she was already working up another lead.

It was a no-brainer when, finally, after years of lead up Project Rebirth was officially greenlit, that the Colonel had taken a chance, ignoring every single one of his superiors who told him he’d never be taken seriously, and put Agent Carter in the project’s advisory role.

“My damn Agent was the one who secured you the doctor in the goddamn first place,” he had reminded one the many pencil pushers that tried to steer him away from the choice. “She knows more about HYDRA than, respectfully, most of you. And has a longer service record then any of our drafted boys. I acquired her. And we’re going to see this thing through. Any further questions?”

He wouldn’t have fielded them anyway, already about-faced and marching out the door. They were trying to change the course of the war, dammit. He didn’t have time for arrogance. Or ignorance. Carter might be a contentious issue, always eager to show up her peer’s egos and bust some balls, but hell if she wasn’t the right person to help evaluate the right candidate.

“Carter!” he bellowed once he’d returned from his meetings. “Effective immediately you’re my right hand Agent. Project Rebirth is up and running. We’re flying out to the States tomorrow. Get prepped.”

There was a particular perk to her steps as she made her way over to tidy up her files.

Returning to full military dress felt different. Her basic training, though endlessly useful, had left her with no mistaken presumption that she’d actually be allowed to see real action. And yet, here she was, four years later, experience on both fronts, and spent considerable time across the pond. At Camp Lehigh, specifically tasked for the top-secret project, her purpose felt renewed to new heights. She was excited, self-assured and conflict, even if the project still seemed a touch too fantastical to imagine. Still she had a job to do, HYDRA assets to bring down. She was ready to get to work.

She’d never seen Phillips in an archetypal military setting, especially not in his native land. It was an adjustment, given his extensive military background, and how dealing with boys playing soldiers meant not giving them the allowances special operatives, such as herself, had been dealt the past few years. The rules of traditional war were quite different to espionage. The Colonel, though never exactly soft, hardened his demeanor considerably. She wondered if it was a natural course from time spent in war, of building stress, tension and frustrations. She too certainly felt much older than her actual age.

Phillips had been in a mood again, she’d been warned as she walked from the barracks towards his office. Apparently there were rumblings that Erskine had gone to recruit men for the project alone again, without seeking the Colonel’s approval first. Peggy still wasn’t quite certain what it was Erskine or Phillips was hoping to find. A strong man? A kind soul? It still seemed nebulous, maybe even unrealistic given the horrific early results witnessed in Schmidt. She believed Dr. Erskine, respected his intellect and efforts to neutralize the Nazi regime. But it all sounded like a fantasy. A fairy tale. Perhaps even a mistake. Too much pressure, too many expectations to put upon one man. Until she met Steve Rogers.

 

*

 

Italy was cold and damp the day the Captain America USO tour came rolling through camp. She hadn’t meant to attend the tail end of his short and disastrous performance, but she’d been curious. It had been months. Months without correspondence. Months of only hearing scraps of gossip or tidbits from papers. Months since she had been forced to walk away from him, unable to find the words to tell him not to let the circumstances get him down. To not define him.

She and Steve were in the same place at the same time once more. Of course she had to see him.

He looked ridiculous in the comically bright outfit, spangles and stars and a hooded mask. Yet there was still something there. Amusing definitely. But also endearing. Even a touch becoming. Even as he was heckled, Steve rose above the taunts. She knew this was not what he had wanted out of joining the army. It was a dilemma she knew all too well.

She watched his glum features as he escaped backstage. As the chorus girls flocked the stage to sing, Peggy slipped away from the crowd. She should have been working on the latest communications but the pull to see Steve, to check on him, was stronger. Peggy took a careful look around. Once certain no one was watching her, she went to find him.

He had his head hunched over a notebook of some sort. A sketchbook she realized. When she had called his name and made herself room to sit, she watched his misery give way to surprise. She liked his face. It was nearly identical to the one she’d known before vita rays and blue serums. His facial expressions were still the same, the pinch between his brows, the shy smiles. All entirely endearing. All entirely Steve Rogers.

She realized she’d missed him, quite frankly. He’d been a bright spot. A pure heart in the endless drudge. A kindred spirit. A budding friend. Peggy had known his potential. She still believed he was worth it all. And she couldn’t blame him for making the choice to do something, even something ludicrous involving stage names and costumes, though she refused to stand by and let him forget his worth.

When she let slip the information about Schmidt and the 107th, which strictly speaking she shouldn’t have divulged, his demeanor changed profoundly. Steve went from despondent to commanding in a split second.

The downpour started again as she followed him to Colonel Phillips’ tent. She listened to the fury and desperation in his voice and took Phillips’ reprimands without comment. Steve Rogers had just learned about the loss of his best friend to the enemy. Likely killed, and at second best taken hostage. As slim the chances, that second possibility might quite possibly be the worse fate, she secretly thought. She still remembered all too clearly how changed her brother was after his rescue.

She wasn’t blind to Steve’s glances at Phillips’ map, like he was studying it. She’s an expert at spotting reckless behavior. It’s his first trip to Europe, ever, and he thought he was just going to traverse the line on foot? He logic might have been foolish, but she admired his sheer stubbornness, a strong will to see an opening worth risking and taking it, all for just the slimmest of chances.

It reminded her of the night she stole military supplies, suited herself up and left before anyone noticed she had gone. She had known full well if she failed she would have been court-martialed, possibly jailed to keep her out of causing further trouble. Her family name would have been ridiculed. But it was Michael, her dearest mate. If he was alive she had planned to bring him home. So how could she possible refuse Steve the same opportunity?

The thing about Steve Rogers was that Peggy already knew him on a deep level. It was how she knew exactly what Steve’s intentions were, knew that he would not roll over, not for Phillips, not for anybody, not out of a desire to misbehave, but solely to save his friend. Peggy took Phillips’ comment as a dismissal and quickly followed Steve.

“You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead,” she told him, an echo of similar comments she heard all those years ago the first time she tried poking into the details of the fate of her brother’s unit. It had been a fundamental lesson she learned at that early age, that some words were more than they appeared, able to stop you in your tracks before you start if you let them. Deterrents. Dismissals.

She didn’t intend to stop Steve. But she needed to warn him. She’s older now and although she didn’t regret her actions, she did have a clearer head now. Some perspective. She could understand why some branded her quest a suicide mission. And truthfully, she hadn’t known the full extent of what she was going to get herself into. That was why, as his friend, as a kindred spirit, she needed him to be prepared.

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

He looked so vulnerable.

“Every word.” And she did. She does. She meant it all, more than he could imagine.

“Then you gotta let me go.”

Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR could do more than that. Much more than that. Why try to pointlessly talk him down? This was war, this was the time for action. And she could give him the very best chance. As for rash rescue missions, she was no amateur. Especially these days. Her mind quickly worked out the possibilities of a full course of action while she’s already got the starting point all figured out. What’s a motorcar when she could offer air support, courtesy of Mr. Howard Stark?

“I can do more than that,” she told him seriously. “Go back. Act natural. Check in on your dancers. As soon as it’s sunset meet me behind the stage.”

“Peggy—”

“You won’t save your friend if you get caught trying to sneak away. We’ll need the cover. I will get you transport. Trust me. Sunset. And brush up on your geography.”

“Peggy you don’t understand—”

“You need more than a wooden prop of a shield and a military vehicle that’s absence will be missed immediately,” she told him with a hand on her hip. “Sunset. I’ll get air transport and you won’t lose any time by waiting a little longer.”

His eyes widened and he stepped away from the vehicle.

“Sunset. Study your maps.”

As soon as she was sure he wouldn’t run off, she turned and marched briskly to Howard’s quarters. It was a miracle he wasn’t entertaining one of Steve’s costars, but she did suppose it’d be cutting it to close to showtime.

“I need you Howard.”

“Carter, I’ve only been waiting this whole war to hear you say that.”

She had to hold herself off from punching him. She couldn’t risk it. Not when she needed him fully functional. It didn’t stop her from shooting him a look of pure disgust. It did the trick of sobering his expression.

“What did I tell you?” she scolded in the same manner she had since she met him. “I need your help. And your plane. For a mission. A secret one.”

“Secret one?”

“It’s not sanctioned… per se.”

He grinned. “I’m in. What are we doing?”

Trust Howard to agree and ask questions later. He was nothing if not predictable.

“I need you to get Steve Rogers to Austria.”

His eyes bulged. “I’ll get my plane fueled. Don’t worry pal, I don’t like to, but I do know how to fly under the radar.”

“You really don’t want to know more?”

“He’s a super soldier. I think even a genius can figure out the broad strokes,” he said cheerfully. “Nothing like seeing my developments finally put to action. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll tell me the pertinent details eventually, pal. Besides, in my line of work plausible deniability is most certainly an asset.”

She’s not particularly surprised it took no time at all to convince Stark to assist them on this scheme. Howard had a weakness for rash behavior, showing off and frankly, for Peggy, not that she had ever used that last one to her advantage. Not until now, for Steve.

The more her brain turned over the plan, the greater the potential she saw in it. Steve had incredible abilities at his disposal. And she was the picture of resourcefulness. Together they could cobble something out of nothing.

Rescuing even a handful of prisoners would do wonders for morale. And causing the factory debilitating damage even on a small scale, would show strength, vigor. It could shift the winds to blow in favor of the Allies. It was a risk worth taking, especially if done the right way.

Steve Rogers always had a quick mind, and now his physicality made him a lethal force to be reckoned with. If there was anyone other than herself she trusted on something so risky, it was him.

She casually finished up her rounds, innocuously organizing paperwork, until finally she slipped away avoiding speaking to anyone. She suited up in her own flight gear, leather jacket and scarf.

At the rendezvous point, she found Steve lurking, trying to make his broad body disappear into the shadows. It’s a reminder that though it’s been months, he’s still getting used to his new body. It’s hard not remember seeing its magnificence for the first time. An archetypal Adonis, the likes of which she’d never seen in the flesh, not outside of carved marble statues. She wondered what it had been like adapting to his new build. If it still felt strange. But there was no time to ask.

She nodded at him wordlessly, signaling for him to follow.

He was visibly surprised on her delivering on her promise. An airplane. Stark’s private one. It wouldn’t even technically be stealing military property. She climbed in ahead of him and sifted through her bag for her maps. This was serious business and she had little time left to properly prepare him. If Steve was going to get the best chance possible, he was going to need context: solid intel, points of ingress and egress, emergency escape routes.

When Steve settled into a seat across from Peggy, his knees bumped hers and he stuttered out an apology. Definitely still adjusting, no longer able to maneuver tight spaces. He wouldn’t be able to slip through hidey-holes the way he once might have, but she supposed he didn’t need to anyway.

Peggy did her best to ignore Stark’s running commentary, but he was not a man who knew how or when to shut up. And she still needed him to get her back to camp. She needed to focus and she needed Steve to focus on the mission too and not whatever nonsense Stark was spewing. She refused to throw him to the wolves without preparation.

And then they were being fired at and Steve was pushing his way out of the airplane. This was not her plan. The plan was to take him all the way in. But he would not be denied. Her eyes lingered on his sassy smile, the brazen assurance, just before he threw himself out of the plane with the confidence of someone who definitely wasn’t jumping out of a plane amid enemy fire for the first time. She continued to watch, tracking his parachute longer than she should, longer than was safe.

She’s immediately reminded of her own dangerous trek. How she also went it alone. Peggy wished she could have accompanied him, to be his support. His backup. So he wouldn’t have to go it alone. But she was no longer that lone unknown agent with nothing to lose. She was deeply embedded in the Strategic Scientific Reserve’s efforts. Though limited, she had a notoriety these days. Her disappearance would be noticed sooner rather than later and she’d already shirked other responsibilities for Steve. For this insane unsanctioned chance. She knew she’d likely staked her career on this. So she watched until she couldn’t make him out of the darkness any further.

 


End file.
